


the debt i owe, gotta sell my soul

by fvckingavengers



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, F/M, Nomad Steve Rogers, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Smut, demon!reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:20:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25662739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fvckingavengers/pseuds/fvckingavengers
Summary: i'm back on my nomad Steve bullshit. i'm also back on my supernatural bullshit. nothing about this is canon. don’t @ me.
Relationships: Steve Rogers & Reader, Steve Rogers/Reader
Comments: 9
Kudos: 56





	the debt i owe, gotta sell my soul

**Author's Note:**

> please, p l e a s e leave a comment/feedback after reading :)

Dark purple painted fingernails tapping against the desk furnished from teakwood is the only sound in the otherwise silent hotel room. The air conditioner doesn't even work. The large open window is barely sufficing. Dingy, once white walls now look beige. Flea market framed pictures hang on the walls.

There’s only one word that comes to mind: depressing.

It’s the same word you’d use to describe the man sitting at the edge of the queen sized bed, slumped over with his head in his hands.

He’s been like this for the past hour. Hasn’t even spoken a word to you despite your prompts for him to do so. He's the reason you’re here, after all. The maid on the third floor sure wasn’t the one who summoned you.

This is all those damn Winchesters’s fault. Couldn’t keep their damn mouths shut about how you came to their aid five years ago. 

You help someone one time and you’re seen as the hellbent saint. The twisted angel who resides in the deepest pit of evil and anguish.

One time turns to two. Which turns to three, and so on. But when you were called above ground yet again, and arose to find the brothers kicking it with the Avengers, that was a twist you didn’t see coming. When they had become so chummy with one another was a mystery to you. Apparently you had missed that episode of the Sam and Dean variety hour.

“Couldn’t have splurged for The Four Seasons, huh? I’m not some cheap whore, you know.” You purse your lips and hold a fingers up. “Let me rephrase that - I’m not cheap.”

Still, he says nothing.

This isn’t the first time he’s invoked your presence. Even the earth’s mightiest hero's and the star spangled man with a plan don't have enough gunpowder to backup their willpower.

You’re a last resort.

That’s what he tells himself.

He was raised to be a good little catholic boy. Morning mass every sunday, singing psalms and praises to a long haired, bearded man who’s very pro flip flops. As far as you’re concerned, Jesus may as well be Keanu Reeves. He's really the one up here doing the Lord’s work.

When the world of all things supernatural had been shown to him, he had trouble coming to terms with it. Hell, demons, the whole kitten caboodle. It shook him to his core, though he buried his woes deep down.

No, you were to be contacted for emergencies only. A trick that he kept in his back pocket. The younger Winchester taught him how to hail your existence to the world overhead from where you reside. But he abused the power. One time he called you up because he got drunk off his ass and he had so many curiousities that needed answers. You all but rocked his world when you informed him that God is a woman who answers to the name Cher.

But this time when you surfaced, things were different. The universe had been shifted - and for once it wasn’t the work of Heaven nor Hell. An otherworldly being wiped out half of the world’s living things. Angels and demons don’t agree on much. Usually, they can’t agree on anything. But it’s an unspoken understanding that what Thanos did was fucked up.

Steve lost everything.

Not just members of his chosen family, but his sanity vanished into thin air, too. He blames himself. He’s earned his halo the moment that fateful day comes, but he’s rotting in his own personal damnation.

“I can’t stay here all night.” You sigh, pushing yourself up from the uncomfortable chair your body had been occupying. “I do have a day job, you know. Souls don’t torture themselves. And you’ve got your own covered, so,”

As you move past him, he grabs your wrist, halting your movement. “You’re not going anywhere.” He finally speaks, his voice more gruff than you’d ever heard it in the few years you’ve interacted with him.

The whites of your eyes and irises disappear behind a pool of onyx as you glare at him. It doesn't phase him, though. You could be inches from his face, snarling and baring your teeth and he still wouldn’t flinch.

_‘Why aren’t you scared of me?’_ You ponder to yourself, as if speaking to him telepathically.

It’s infuriating, really. The fear and terror you instill in mortals fuels you. You’ve rendered people to tears. Watched them cower and curl up into the fetal position as they pray for mercy to be graced upon them. A guy even pissed himself once.

But Steve didn’t treat you any different than he would treat any other human, and it got under your skin.

“Hands off.” You grit through clenched teeth. “Before I cut it off and shove it down your throat.”

In that moment, he does recoil. But not from your threat. Steve’s never been one to overstep personal boundaries before.

“I’m sorry.” He mumbles, much softer and weak.

You lean down to level with him. “Let’s get somethings straight here, Cap.” His title drips from your mouth with distain. “I am not at your beck and call. I’m not your little demonic toy that you can play with whenever you want. And lastly, you will not ever touch me again. Is that clear?” Steve nods. “Say it.”

He swallows the lump in his throat and wrings his hands in his lap. “I won’t ever touch you again.”

You try to ignore the pang in your chest as you look at his meek demeanor. The golden boy has been knocked down a few pegs. His shimmer has faded and dulled. Grown rugged and rough around the edges.

“What do you want from me?” You sigh and straighten your back. “Instead of sitting here and sulking why don’t you just ask what you wanna know? What are you wondering?”

Your eyes return to their natural state just as he looks up at you, pleadingly. “What do you know?”

You know what he’s really asking, though he can’t bring himself to say the words. They taste sour and feel wrong in his mouth.

“They’re not dead.” You confirm, folding your arms over your chest. “Lucifer made a special cage for Trump. He’ll be tormenting him, himself. He vanished too, but he’s not downstairs with us.” You shake your head and shrug your shoulders. “They’re just...gone.”

“There has to be something we can do. Something that you can do,”

“Rogers, you hold me to a higher caliber in your head than I deserve if you think I could pull something like that off.”

“What about Lucifer?”

“Resurrection really isn’t his thing. Besides, you can’t bring something back to life that hasn’t died. They dematerialized, Steve. Became dust in the wind. It’s an absolute calamity, and I say that as someone without a soul, but you can’t make something out of nothing.”

Something you said struck a chord with him. He perks up slightly and looks up at you with hope filled eyes. “My soul. What if I sold my soul?” He rises to his feet. “Would it be possible to trade my soul for the stones?”

“Anything is possible. You know that as much as I do. But you don’t know what you’ll be getting yourself into if you do this.”

Steve rolls his eyes and scoffs. “This is my choice.”

“And I'm not telling you not to make it. I just-” You lick over your bottom lip before biting into it. “No one was there to warn me before I made my choice. And maybe if there was, I would’ve changed my mind. The chance for bragging rights that the modern day Hercules would give up angel wings for chains; Lucifer will take that deal in a second. You’ll get what you want. But is the cost worth it?”

He contemplates his decision for two, maybe three seconds. “Yeah.” He nods.

\- - -

The deal was made.

In all your years as the devil’s right hand, you’ve never seen him so giddy than the moment he obtained the thing that made Steve Rogers ‘God’s righteous man’.

He’s not a demon. Not yet, anyway. His eyes will still resemble the stain glass windows of the church he attended as a young boy. He won’t possess the powers that you do until he meets his demise. But being soulless will alter his character. Make him more carefree. Reckless. Dangerous.

But he got what he wanted. The infinity stones. The key to bringing everyone and everything back where it belonged.

The last thing they needed was a new gauntlet, which Tony and Bruce were already in the process of manufacturing.

Steve couldn’t go back to the compound. Not now. Not yet. His teammates were already in shock that he’d come into possession of the stones, he didn’t feel like being bombarded with questions of where and how.

“Now this is what I'm talking about.” You grin, walking through the suite Steve got at the Plaza.

He chuckles softly and shakes his head. He sits on the bed, back against the headboard, one leg hanging off the edge as he answers Natasha’s text messages. He tosses his phone aside and sighs as he runs a hand through his thick head of hair.

“How do you feel?” You ask, climbing onto the bed beside him, propping yourself up on your elbows as you lay on your stomach.

“Good.” He huffs as in disbelief. “Really good. It’s weird.”

“It’s like a high. Your mind is cloudy but you’ve never felt more clarity at the same time.”

He nods in agreement. “So, what are somethings I can expect now?”

“Well, you won’t get your hellhounds until you’re a full demon, but you can think about names in the meantime. I named mine Axl and Rose. And of course you know about the weekly orgy.”

Steve raises a brow and cracks a slight smile. “I can’t tell if you’re joking or not.”

You shrug and roll onto your back. “Get used to not knowing.”

You let your eyes flutter closed for a moment. The memory foam mattress moulds to your form. Before you could drift off for a brief nap, Steve nudges your shoulder.

“Stark said the device should be finished by tomorrow. Odds are that Thanos will show up to try and stop us. Wanna join the fight?”

You smirk and nod. “Count me in. You know how much I love to get my hands dirty.”

\- - -

_“Let’s get somethings straight here, Cap.” His title drips from your mouth with distain. “I am not at your beck and call. I’m not your little demonic toy that you can play with whenever you want. And lastly, you will not ever touch me again. Is that clear?” Steve nods. “Say it.”_

_“I won’t ever touch you again.”  
_

What a lie that was.

The day was saved. Everyone was back, safe and sound. As happy tears flowed and tight embraces were shared, you ducked out. Emotions make you sick.

It didn't take him long to catch up with you, tough.

The hotel room door bursts open, makes you poke your head out of the bedroom when it hits against the wall. You furrow your brow and look him up and down.

“What are you doing here? Thought you, Sam, and Bucky would be in the middle of a circle jerk by now.”

Steve closes the gap between the two of you and pulls you in by the back of your head. A bruising kiss that leaves you breathless and with no other choice than to kiss back. It deepens when you tilt your head and take his bottom lip between yours.

He tastes like blood, dirt, and sweat. But you swear that it’s the sweetest concoction that’s ever graced your tastebuds.

Strong, hungry hands grip your body, ripping the clothes that conceal you from him to shreds. You curse whoever made his suit so unnecessarily difficult to remove. A wolf like grin spreads across his face as he watches you desperately try to strip him if his uniform.

“You know how long I’ve wanted this?” His voice rumbles low. “Wanted to have my way with you, fuck you slow, and deep, and turn you into a writhing, whimpering mess just from my cock?” Your mouth gapes as your breath becomes shallow, looking up at him with lust blown eyes. “The second I saw your pretty little face.” He takes your chin between his fingers and keeps your head tilted upward before clasping his hand around your throat.

“So fucking sassy. A goddamn brat. And I bet that tight little pussy is dripping just thinking about soaking my dick.” His free hand moves between your thighs and he groans from the feeling of your arousal coating his digits.

Steve picks you up and sets you on top of the dresser before taking off his uniform. He doesn’t give you time to admire him in all his glory before he pushes your legs apart and stands between them. He spits into his palm and coats himself just enough to squeeze into you.

He doesn't give you time to adjust to his size, either. He keeps your legs spread and tangles his hand in your hair, right in the roots at the base of your skull. His pace is fast and unforgiving. You’ll be sore in the morning from the stretch of your walls around his girth.

“You feel so fucking good. Squeezin’ my cock like I’ve never felt before.”

He knows he’s gonna blow before you reach your climax. He’s been waiting for this, fantasizing about it for years. His hips never slow, never stutter as he fucks you harder and deeper.

“Steve,” You whimper.

He chuckles darkly and nips at your bottom lip with his teeth as his grasp finds its way back to your throat. Your pulse throbs in time with your walls that constrict around his length.

“C’mon, baby. Lemme see those pretty eyes.” He grunts, tightening his grip on your neck.

You feel dizzy from the way the room spins from the lack of air reaching your lungs. You stabilize yourself on the dresser with one hand while the other grabs onto Steve's wrist, keeping his hand from moving.

His request is met when your eyes flood with inky black. Void. Inhuman. And that’s all it takes for him to lose his composure. He fills you in that instant, shooting his warm load in ribbons inside of your cunt.

In a blur, he moves you to the bed, laying you on your back and kneeling at the edge and pulling you to him until your pussy is right at his mouth. He stuffs two fingers inside of you, keeping his cum from leaking out as he presses against your sweet spot and laps his tongue against your clit.

“Fuck!” You cry, closing your legs around Steve’s head as you tug at his hair.

He’s relentless as he eats you out, shameless that his spunk is mixed in with your juices as he devours you.

When you cum, you see stars. Flecks of gold twinkling on the hotel room ceiling as your body quakes.

Steve Rogers will be the death of you.

**Author's Note:**

> please, p l e a s e leave a comment/feedback after reading :)


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